


giving away the ending

by silklace



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: 2008 Campaign Era, M/M, Praise Kink, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 13:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14521578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silklace/pseuds/silklace
Summary: you're giving away the ending / we should stop pretending





	giving away the ending

**Author's Note:**

> it's Wednesday, have some porn with schmoopy feelings
> 
> title is from Amy Shark's [Blood Brothers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrYtWVVMpnw).

The fifth time Jon watches Tommy flex his fingers above his keyboard, knuckles white with tension, he pushes the yellow legal pad he’s been scratching away at off his lap. “Tense?”

Tommy glances sideways at him, then huffs. His face makes a complicated motion, like he was considering a half-hearted smile, but even that was too exhausting. “Guess so.” He leans back against the shitty motel couch, rubs at the back of his neck. “Christ. We got skinned today, Favs.” He laughs, an unhappy sound, and knuckles at his eyes. He pushes the laptop off to the side. 

Jon glances out the window. The sun went down a couple of hours ago, and the light from the neon vacancy sign is reflecting off the blank TV screen. Beyond that, there’s a pizza shop, a store that sells used electronics, a sign for the best apple pie at a diner three miles west, and not much else. 

“I fuckin’ hate Ohio.” It’s the third time he’s said it. The first time, Jon had laughed, tossed him a water bottle he’d snagged from the team meeting earlier in the day, and quipped, “The whole state? Like all of it?” The second time, Tommy had been staring at a headline on his blackberry from a local newspaper, and Jon had mmm’ed sympathetically, not looking up from where he was doodling black circles in the margin of his paper, waiting for the right words to materialize in front of him on the page. 

Now, he should suggest they take a break, maybe grab a pizza and some beer if they can find a liquor store in any kind of meaningful vicinity. Neither of them have eaten more than a power bar in the last ten hours, and before that, it’d been a shitty complimentary muffin from a hotel in another, shitty part of Ohio, and he’d split half of it with Tommy on the bus anyways. 

He should – he should do that.

He slides off the couch, settling on his knees in front of Tommy’s spread legs. The AC kicks on. Outside, a car door slams shut in the parking lot. 

“I uh –,” Jon says, just as Tommy says, “Oh.”

Jon looks up at Tommy’s face. He can feel himself blushing, heat on his cheeks and throat. He shrugs. “You’re all – tense. I just.” He has no idea how to finish that sentence, heart hammering in his chest, so instead he reaches for Tommy’s belt buckle. 

“Jon?” Tommy’s voice sounds questioning, hesitant, but he pushes the laptop further to the side, thigh jerking automatically at the touch of Jon’s fingers brushing against his belly. 

“It’s fine,” Jon says, concentrating on pulling Tommy’s belt out of its loops. Even with the AC going, it’s hot in the room. 

“We should –”

“What?” He’s got Tommy’s zipper down, can see the worn front of his boxers, the bulge of his cock, still soft but – big. Tommy’s big. Bigger than Jon, which had been embarrassing for three seconds the first time, until he’d looked down and seen the way Tommy’s dickhead was bumping against his wrist as he jerked him off. He’d come so hard his knees had given out. 

Tommy sucks in a breath. “I don’t know,” he says, licking his lips, eyes flicking between Jon’s face and his hand. “Are you –” He coughs. “You’re kneeling,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, and his face goes red from forehead to chin immediately, as if he’d said something filthy, the kinds of things Jon imagines him saying when it’s 2am and he’s got his hand on himself in the shower, mouth pressed to the hinge of his elbow and eyes squeezed tight.

Jon hooks his hands under Tommy’s knees and tugs him forward. Tommy goes easily, and that makes the slick of heat in Jon’s belly light up. “It’s fine,” he says again. “It was a bad day. Let me make it up to you.”

Tommy coughs, hips hitching up as Jon works his pants down over his knees. “With a blowjob?”

Jon feels his face go hotter, which seems impossible, but here he is: kneeling on the bald carpet of a crappy motel in the middle of Ohio, touching the fine, golden hair on Tommy’s thighs. 

He drags his fingertips lightly along the leg of Tommy’s boxers. “Pretty sure of yourself, huh,” he says, with a lot more fucking bravado than is warranted, given that his mouth is watering for it, has been since he watched Tommy step out of the motel pool with his trunks bunched around his thighs and clinging to his cock and had the thought, _I want that in my mouth, I could put that in my mouth,_ like some bizarre and horrifying erotic alarm clock that wouldn’t shut up and was only ever set to “TIME TO SUCK TOMMY VIETOR’S COCK.”

Now, there’s a hand on his jaw, and his lips part automatically for Tommy’s thumb, which drags against his lower lip, touching, exploring, as if they’ve got all the time in the world, as if their handful of hook-ups until now haven’t consisted solely of rushed handjobs in bathroom stalls that they’d chalked up to campaign stress relief. 

His eyes drop closed as he suckles on Tommy’s thumb, wanting to show that he’s good for it, how much of a sure thing he really is. Tommy makes a wet sound, curving his thumb so it digs into the soft flesh of Jon’s lip, making him whine with the flare of pleasure-pain that erupts along his spine. 

“God,” Tommy breathes. “So easy for me.”

“I am,” Jon says, a little slurry with want already, Tommy’s thumb still hooked in his mouth. He grips Tommy’s hips in both hands, feeling the weight of them, fingers dragging at his boxers. 

Tommy’s all hard edges, except for where his hips curve into the soft roundness of his ass. Jon wants to touch him there all the time. 

Tommy shoves the elastic of his boxers down and starts to jack himself to full hardness, until Jon puts a hand on his wrist. 

Can I -,” he licks his lips. “Let me,” he says, pushing gently at Tommy’s hand, though instead of replacing it with his own palm, he leans over Tommy’s lap and runs his mouth along the shaft from root to tip.

“Fuck,” Tommy gasps, curling over Jon, hands hovering like he doesn’t know where to touch. Or where he has permission to touch. 

Jon wants to tell him he can touch him anywhere, but he also never wants to remove his mouth from Tommy’s cock. He gets a hand up on Tommy’s chest and pushes him back, so that he can o his mouth and fit it over the length of the shaft, which means he can feel the way Tommy’s cock gets harder and thicker and longer in his mouth, takes up all the space there. 

He pulls off and sucks wetly at the head. “You’re so big, Tommy,” he moans, feeling hot and embarrassed at how much he fucking loves it. His mouth is so _full_.

“Jesus, Jon,” Tommy groans, hips juddering forward. “You have no idea – you can’t just say that.” His voice sounds shuddery, like he’s been holding his breath. “Do you have any idea what you look like?”

Jon moans, working on fitting as much of Tommy’s cock in his mouth as he can, which is – not a lot. There’s no way he’s going to be able to give him a real blowjob like he’d imagined, not with the way he’s bottoming out just a little past the head of Tommy’s cock, and that’s disappointing but also unbearably hot, makes the back of Jon’s neck feel prickly with want, makes his belly tug low and deep. God. Maybe he can suck on the head while Tommy jacks into his mouth instead. 

The thought makes him moan again, and Tommy hisses, hands settling on Jon’s shoulders. “No clue what you look like right now, do you? On your knees, looking up at me like that, telling me how big my dick feels in your mouth,” Tommy says, voice low and bracing. He touches the back of Jon’s head. “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck your mouth with my big dick?”

He sounds a little uncertain, and when Jon glances up he can see that Tommy is watching him attentively, mouth a soft, loose shape. He pulls off. “You could,” Jon says, offhandedly, as if he’s not running his wet lips against the head of Tommy’s cock in delirious pleasure. “You could shove your dick down my throat, make me take it, make me suck on your balls, I can do that, too –”

“Jesus fuck,” Tommy says. “Get up here.” He tugs Jon up by the shoulders and into his lap. 

“Tommy,” Jon says, unsteadily.

“You looked really good doing that.” He brushes his knuckles along Jon’s ribs. “Really good.”

“I can keep doing it,” Jon hedges, reaching down to wrap his palm loosely around Tommy’s dick. “If you wanted.”

Tommy fucks up into his fist in answer, the head of his cock dragging against Jon’s belly, smearing wetness on his undershirt. Jon swallows. He’s in Tommy’s lap, that’s Tommy’s dick juddering against his belly, fucking upwards, almost like – almost as if – 

He chokes, pitching forward to press his face against Tommy’s neck. “Want you,” he slurs hotly, “Fuck my mouth again, Tommy, please, fucking, take my mouth –.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, shuddering against him. “Okay. God. If I knew you were so desperate for it,” he says, palming Jon’s spine, but he doesn’t say anything else, the words half a taunt, half an unfinished fantasy. 

Jon presses his lips to Tommy’s throat, once, then draws back, letting Tommy work his pants open at the same time that he’s shifting off of his lap to kneel next to him on the couch. “Okay,” Tommy says again, sliding his hand up to the back of Jon’s neck, still managing to be gentle even as he directs Jon’s face towards his cock. Fuck. 

Jon’s fingers are shaking. He rests his forehead against Tommy’s thigh and breathes. Tommy’s rubbing the base of his skull, not saying anything. From the hallway comes the beep of a door clicking open. Jon’s dick is hard and flat against his belly - he can see the tip of his cock peeking above his underwear from this angle. 

“You look so good like this,” Tommy says, voice pitched low. “With your ass up in the air, god, Jon.” His grip tightens on the back of Jon’s neck, his other hand curling around his cock, touching the tip against Jon’s lips. “You look – fuck – you look amazing.”

“Oh,” Jon says, inching forward to mouth wetly at Tommy’s cock, stretching wide to cover the head with his lips and suckle before angling away again and rubbing his cheek against the skin, animal-like, wanting, feeling pinned and every part of him alight with it. “Oh, fuck, Tommy,” he pants. “Give it to me.”

After that, Tommy does; he slips Jon’s mouth over his dick, slow and hazy like, pushing the tip of his cock along Jon’s tongue, precome leaking into Jon’s mouth, sharp and sweet. The room is still overwarm even with the AC beating away, and it makes Jon feel a little feverish, or fucked up, maybe, he can’t tell. Tommy’s cock slips in and out of his mouth, hot and slick, and he was right; he can barely get half of the shaft in his mouth, it’s too big. Even with way the head is hitting the back of Jon’s throat, the spot right before his gag reflex wants to kick in, Tommy’s still jacking the base of his dick. It must be okay though, because he’s moaning, these breathy little sounds Jon’s never heard him make before. 

“I’m gonna,” Tommy says, voice tight. “Gonna come, Jon,” he grits out, trying to push Jon away, but Jon sucks harder, moaning as Tommy’s fist flies along his shaft, trying to seal his lips and suck while flitting his tongue along the head, and it’s so messy, saliva dribbling out of the corners of his mouth, filthy and unreal, and Jon can’t stop moaning, even as his cheeks flame red with how he sounds, the noises he’s making from the feeling of sucking a cock, of sucking Tommy’s cock.

And then Tommy’s hand is speeding up as he comes, quick and hard in Jon’s mouth, the taste of his come new and different but not bad, just surprising, and Jon likes it, he fucking likes it, can’t stop licking at the slit of Tommy’s dick as Tommy works his hand, breath sounding wrecked, wringing the last of his come into Jon’s greedy mouth. 

Jon pulls off when Tommy’s knee knocks to the side, nerves jumping with overstimulation. Tommy’s breathing hard. 

“You swallowed,” Tommy says. 

Jon doesn’t know what the fuck to say to that, so he says nothing. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Guess you are easy for me,” Tommy says, and this time he reaches for Jon’s hips. 

Jon slides back into his lap, feeling dazed and overwhelmed and brutally, painfully hard. “Guess so.”

“Gonna take care of you now,” Tommy says, and then he’s flipping them so that Jon is on his back, Tommy hovering over him on one elbow, his other hand pushing Jon’s underwear down enough that he can get a grip on his dick. 

God, Jon is not going to last long, not with Tommy panting against his neck, his hand hot and warm and slick – he must have, must have licked it while Jon had his eyes screwed up – not with the way he’s crowding in so close and warm, working his hand between them like he’s desperate to see Jon come, not with the way his mouth is starting to press against Jon’s throat, open and hot, and then, something that feels more like a kiss, not just the accidental slide of a mouth, but something more deliberate and dry, once, and then again, Tommy pressing his lips tenderly and painfully against Jon’s neck, his jaw, his cheekbone, until Jon is gasping, begging, “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,” and Tommy is, god, finally, finally kissing him, slick and hot and ragged while Jon’s back arches and his hips shudder upwards and he comes across Tommy’s fingers with Tommy’s tongue in his mouth.

They kiss for a long time. Long enough that the AC kicks off, only to be replaced by the hum of the soda machine from around the corner. Eventually, Jon puts a hand against Tommy’s chest, says, “Maybe we should - ?”

Tommy’s hips jump back. “Oh – yeah,” he says. “Sorry.” He wiggles back on his heels, enough room for Jon to sit up and swing his legs off the couch, make his way towards the bathroom. Before the door shuts he looks back and sees Tommy looking at his hand – the one still covered in Jon’s come. 

Jon glances at himself in the mirror. He looks – thoroughly fucked. Whatever. He changes quickly into his pajamas, running a damp cloth over the come flaking on his belly, brushing his teeth, pushing his dirty clothes into the corner of the bathroom. He’ll deal with it tomorrow. 

He drops into his bed, checking his phone while Tommy’s in the bathroom. His eyes are starting to close without his permission. When Tommy emerges, the bathroom light cuts a swathe of yellow across the room. He hesitates between the two beds. 

Jon snorts, pushing the covers back. “Don’t be a jackass.”

“I was – respecting your space!” Tommy splutters, but he’s dropping under the covers already, and when Jon swings a leg over his hip, he quiets. “This is good, too, though,” he says softly. 

Jon hums against his shoulder, eyes falling shut, and the last thing he notices before falling asleep is the way Tommy is smiling, soft, the corner of his mouth tugged up in happy surprise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! Comments/feedback welcome and adored. You can find me yelling on [tumblr.](http://silkcoeur.tumblr.com/)


End file.
